Time of My Life
by Professor Monty Corndog
Summary: Same AU as my other fic, "Won't Last Forever". Eaglebones tries to deal with Crash's death, although things are hard when you're so close to the spirit world. (Eaglebones/Crash)


It's all starting to make sense when you realise that your dream wasn't actually fiction. When he first appeared to you in the middle of the night, you dismissed it as just another one of your nightmares, but when you actually awoke early in the morning, you realised Crash was still there. All you did was cry, huddling underneath your blankets and hyperventilating in a manner that you now find embarrassing. Nothing seemed to fit together properly - especially considering you'd just started coming to terms with his death. For a while, you were actually happy, and now that he's reappeared it's destroyed all of that in one fell swoop. When he explains to you that he'd been 'drifting' for months, you finally get what you dad had meant when he made an off-handed comment the other day.  
"Who's your friend?" was all that he'd asked, but when you had no clue what he was talking about, he quickly changed his tone, becoming hushed as if he was actually embarrassed for once. It irritates you in a way that your father had seen Crash first, because if there was anyone who his spirit appeared to, you'd want it to be you. But you know that's what he was trying for, and you're honoured that he'd try so hard.  
"Why not earlier?" was one of the first things you'd said to him, and he immediately had the look of a kicked puppy, his half-transparent and yet still incredibly large frame perching awkwardly on the edge of your bed, not sinking into it in the slightest. He shakes his head, shrugs, eyes lowering to the floor.  
"I didn't know how you'd feel," he confesses, refusing to meet your gaze as you peer up at him, still half-hiding beneath your covers. "I-I thought you might be upset, and—"  
You immediately feel terrible for having such a negative reaction and making all of Crash's worries come true, feeling like if anyone is the guilty party, it's yourself. Holding a hand out in his direction, you try and get him to come closer with a gesture, and he complies, shifting up to sit near you and still not moving the bed at all. You sigh, eyes pleading with the ones that you've missed so much, the ones you've thought about every day.  
"It's just… Hard to adjust…"  
"I won't stay, don't worry," he blurts out in a panic, but your eyes just widen more in response, again not the reaction he'd wanted at all as you feel tears welling up again.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I can't. I can't do this for very long."  
He's right, and you know it, realising what your dad has told you before about human spirits appearing to loved ones. Unless it's a spirit guide, like your own, they cannot be summoned or stay for more than a few hours at a time without drifting back into their own world - no spirit of the deceased is permitted to stay in the world of the living, that's just how things work.  
_Loved ones_, you think, and find hot tears streaking down your face once more, sending Crash into a panic as he's already trying to coo at you, shush you.  
"I'm sorry!" he cries in the middle of all of it, voice raising into hysterics as you sob and sniffle.  
"No," you tell him immediately in response. "Don't be sorry. _I'm_ the one who should be sorry. I never told you, I never _told you_ properly…"  
Crash's spirit clearly has no idea what you're talking about, the way his nose wrinkles when he gives you a puzzled look reminding you of all the times you'd seen it in the past and thought to yourself how cute it was. Another tiny part of him you'd missed having around. There's a silence in the room that almost seems to be begging for an end, and you try and slow your breathing as he stares at you, still partially in confusion, but mostly in worry at how upset you are.  
"I love you," you mumble, much quieter than anything else you've said, before the floodgates open again, this time for both of you. You didn't even know spirits could cry. Crash moves ever closer, wrapping his somewhat transparent arms around your tiny frame. You can't feel the actual weight of him, can't feel his arms around you the way you used to, letting you know that everything would be alright and that he'd protect you. Cuddling up together at night with the arms that now seem to mock you with their very presence made you feel safe. But you can feel his warmth, as if he were still alive and emanating heat from his body, and you lie down against your pillows again, giving up.  
"I love you," he whispers into the back of your neck as you both lie there, the spirit of your love keeping you warm as you drift back to sleep, feeling more tired than you did when you first went to bed.

When you find yourself jolted awake by the sound of loud thud downstairs (inevitably a customer knocking something over, it always is), his arms are no longer wrapped around you, and he's gone without a trace. For a few minutes as you actually manage to pull yourself out of bed this time, you wonder if it's just the grieving finally melting away at your brain. Heading downstairs, for once still in your pyjamas and not in your uniform, you stand in the doorway, giving your father a mournful look and a sigh. It doesn't take long before he's abandoned his post at the counter and come over to see you.  
"What's wrong? I know there's no-one in right now, but it wouldn't kill you to get dressed already."  
"This coming from _you,_" you reply sarcastically with a slight smirk, before huffing again. "I… Wanna talk to you about something."  
Now he's the one sighing, almost exactly like you did, and he yanks his sunglasses off his face to place them in his pocket. Condor pinches the bridge of his nose in such a way that you know he's stressed; you've known to watch for that ever since you were a kid, to see what you could get away with.  
"Hoo boy," he grumbles. "Okay then, let's go upstairs. I'll put on a pot of coffee."  
The front of the store is once again decorated with a sheet of paper that simply reads "back in 10 minutes", a statement your father has never really adhered to.

The 10 minute sign is once again proven to be completely inaccurate when you realise that the pair of you have sat and spoken about your visit from Crash for around half an hour.  
"Uh, dad?" you ask, staring at the now-empty mugs on the cluttered coffee table. "Shouldn't you go back down—"  
"Nah. Who needs an instrument _that_ desperately? They can deal with it."  
You can't help but chuckle slightly at his complete lack of regard for his own business - finding yourself laughing again is nice, after actually being able to clear you head and explain the spirit to someone without them dismissing you as crazy, like people often do. But there's one detail of this complicated situation that you've not really explained to him, and it's just begging to finally fly out of your mouth, having spent enough time bouncing around in your head.  
"I know why he came here," you say, trying your hardest to look him in the eye.  
"You love him," he points out, not struggling with it at all. It obviously catches you entirely off-guard, and you find yourself sputtering as your whole body seems to heat up from embarrassment, feeling like your head could explode. After all, you only just came to terms with it yourself, and here he is, apparently knowing it better than you did.  
"What—"  
"I thought that part was obvious when you came home all that time ago," he confesses, shrugging his shoulders. At least he's taking it seriously now, the casual tone being replaced with one that seems to be filled with nothing but sincerity. "It's terrible to lose a friend, but… I could tell it was more than that. You _adore_ him, Bones."  
"You didn't care?"  
"I _still_ don't. Why would I care? You fell in love, any good parent wants to see their child so happy." He pours himself some more coffee, staring deep into his mug as if it were to tell him all the secrets of the universe. "I just wish that this hadn't upset you so badly. Life is like that sometimes, I suppose. If I could've helped, if I'd known… I would've."  
It's at this moment, this perfect, crystallising moment in which you realise for the first time in your life just how much your father cares about you, that Crash starts to appear again, his shape effectively flickering into existence in the doorway to your bedroom. It's barely a few seconds before Condor has picked up on it, watching the way you're staring over his shoulder, and he blinks quickly a few times before getting out of his chair. You swear you see him wipe his eyes as he heads downstairs, his voice gruff and behind his usual facade.  
"I'll leave you kids to it," he offers. "Maybe you should go out somewhere, I dunno."

You don't get very far, spending most of the day sat together in your living room and talking about anything, everything. Trying to avoid the topic of death as best you can, you end up bombarding him with information as you update him on every aspect of your new life, as if you just hadn't seen him in years and required catching up. Although most people that catch up like this after the better part of a decade apart don't spend their time as close, admiring the features they'd missed so much on the contours of each other's faces, and in Crash's case, admiring the way your hair's grown out. He calls your feathers "lovely" and "beautiful", and fawns over you completely. It makes you feel better than you have done in a long time, feeling butterflies in your stomach, the way that you used to when he complimented you. There's just such a blunt honesty to what he says that you trust his opinion completely. You think that if Crash could stay with you all the time, you'd never be self-conscious about anything ever again. The furthest you make it away from the living room is when you wander out onto the balcony, scaring off the resident doves as you slide the glass across. He watches the people scurrying in the streets below you with an odd sort of curiosity, and you realise that this is the first time he's actually seen a living soul in a long time. For a minute you wonder if that'll affect Crash badly, if he'll feel jealous or get upset, but he just seems sort of curious, if not a little wistful.  
"This is nice," he states, looking out across the city, and you nod, shuffling closer to him. You don't have to worry about what people will say if they see you together, because of course, no-one else can see him. It's a blessing in this sense, you suppose, but when you remember that a spirit only has 12 hours every 30 days, your heart sinks. He's wasted all of that time in one sitting, just talking nonsense with you all day. You think of all the things he could've done in that time, and don't know whether you're heartbroken or adore him even more for making this judgement.  
"I have to go soon," he tells you as you watch the sun hide away behind the buildings, turning the sky from a terracotta orange to a pinkish hue. Nodding at him again, you gesture for him to come back inside, and he follows obediently, wondering what you want to do. The pair of you wander back into your bedroom and find yourselves curled up, entangled together the same way you had been this morning. The feeling of security that you haven't had in years returns properly. When you wake up in the morning to your father knocking at the door with another pot of coffee, you're alone again, and know the wait is going to be painful - but you had your first night's sleep without nightmares in five years.


End file.
